Lies
by DizzyDrea
Summary: We all tell lies. We don't want people to know who we really are, so we wear masks that hide us from each other, from ourselves.


Title: Lies  
>Author: DizzyDrea<br>Summary: We all tell lies. We don't want people to know who we really are, so we wear masks that hide us from each other, from ourselves.  
>Rating: T<br>Spoilers: Pandora/Linchpin  
>Author's Notes: Well, I really couldn't resist this one, mostly because of the argument about the club in Linchpin, and partly because Sophia was so smug and self-righteous when she was running Kate off, all the while knowing that she was (spoilers!) not who she claimed to be. So, I figured Castle would have some issues. And scotch and your mother are always good for those sorts of things.<br>Disclaimer: Castle is the property of ABC, ABC Studios, Beacon Productions and a lot of other people who aren't me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

Richard Castle stood staring out the floor to ceiling windows of his loft, sipping absently at a glass of scotch as he turned the events of the last couple of days over in his mind.

It had been a hell of a shock to see Sophia Conrad again. He'd thought that the last time he saw her would be the last time he saw her. People in the intelligence community just didn't move in the same circles as a writer from the Lower West Side.

But then she'd turned up in the middle of their murder investigation, creating the usual havoc and upending everything he thought he knew about his life. The worst part was, Kate now knew that he and Sophia had been involved. He knew it pissed her off, and that she didn't understand that it was different with her than it had been with Sophia. He wasn't sure if he could explain it if she asked, so he hadn't been very disappointment when she'd just pretended she didn't know.

Now, though…he sighed. Just how did his life manage to get so complicated?

"You're my son, darling. Complicated is part of the package."

Rick's head popped up as he spun around—he hadn't realized he'd said it out loud—and saw his mother crossing the room to stand beside him at the windows. She pushed up on her toes and pecked him on the cheek.

"Is everything alright?"

He sighed again, his eyes moving back to the view as he sipped his drink. "I don't know."

"That sounds ominous. Care to share?"

He glanced at her, looking up at him with an understanding smile. There were times being Martha Rodgers' son was a pain in the ass. This wasn't one of those times. "You might want a drink first."

She raised an eyebrow. "That bad?"

"That complicated," he said as he watched her cross to the bar and pour a splash of amber liquid into a glass. He moved to the table and settled in, waiting for her to join him.

"Now," she said once she was seated across from him, "perhaps you'd better start from the beginning."

"You want the long version, or the short version?"

"How much scotch have you got?"

"Good point," he said, smiling. The smile faded, and he turned to look out the window. "Do you remember me talking about Sophia Conrad? She was my contact in the CIA, the one I shadowed for a while when I first started writing the Derrik Storm novels."

"I remember a torrid affair," Martha said, a sly smile tipping her lips. "Something about working so closely together in such a high stress environment, as I recall."

Rick chuckled, but it was entirely without humor. He met his mother's eyes. "She's dead."

"How?" she asked, shocked. "When?"

"Earlier today," he said. He looked down into his glass, as if it held the answers he was looking for. "She was about to betray her country, so she was taken out by another CIA agent."

Martha pressed a hand to her mouth. "My God. Richard, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Mother," he said, meeting her eyes and reaching over to squeeze her hand. "Well, mostly fine. Scratches and bruises. I almost drowned yesterday. Otherwise…"

"What happened?" she asked gently.

He sighed and began his story. About the dead bodies piling up, about how there was no connection between them until they found Blakely, or McGreggor, or whatever his name had been, and about Pandora and the linchpin. He told her about getting locked in a trunk and pushed off a pier and shot at and almost killed. He told her about Sophia and Kate, and about what Kate must think now that she'd met his last muse. He told her all the things he was sure the CIA would rather he kept secret, and the things he wouldn't tell another soul.

"The thing is," he said, when he'd finally run out of things to say, "I know why it ended with Sophia. I just don't think Kate gets it."

"And why _did_ your relationship with Sophia end?" Martha asked gently.

He propped his chin in his hand, his eyes taking on a wistful stare as he remembered back to the way things used to be. "When I first met Sophia, I was blown away. She was this tough, driven woman in a man's world. That's why I wanted to shadow her: to find out how she managed in the testosterone-fueled world of the CIA. We danced around each other for months. There was this undeniable attraction between us; it filled the room whenever we were together. And when we finally gave in—"

His mother took a sip of her drink, a knowing smile on her face. "A bit combustible?"

"Like a megaton bomb," he said, a lopsided smile on his face. He straightened up, the smile disappearing as if it had never been there. "Afterwards, I wanted to get closer, to know the woman behind the mask. But it was just…awkward. Like we didn't know what to say to each other anymore. So, we just ended it."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she said, patting his hand.

"I guess now I know why," he said.

"And why is that?"

Rick sighed, his shoulders slumping. "She was a double agent. A Soviet sleeper, they said. Left over from the Cold War. She probably didn't have anywhere else to go, so she stayed put, biding her time until an opportunity came along."

"My God," Martha said, sitting back in shock. "She was going to try to bring down the US? By herself?"

"She had help," he said, shaking his head. "But yeah, basically one person pulling the trigger could have brought down the whole country." He paused. "I guess it explains a lot."

"About what?" she asked, leaning in.

"About why there wasn't anyone to get to know beyond the mask she showed the world," he said. "There wasn't anything there. Sophia was just an illusion, an act. A character she was playing. Actually, I ended up filling in a lot of Clara Strike's personality on my own, once I'd started writing the books. She turned out a lot more like Kate than Sophia."

"No surprise there," she said, smiling. "You do have a type."

"I suppose," he said. "I told Kate that. That what Clara became was much more like her than Sophia: smart, fierce, kind. I'm not sure she believed me. She seemed…jealous. Or maybe just like she'd been fooled. Like I fall in love with all my muses."

"Don't you?" she asked sardonically. A wounded look passed over his face, and she reached out, squeezing his hand in sympathy. "I know, sweetheart. Kate's different; I've always known that."

"With Sophia, there wasn't anything to fall in love with," he said, shaking his head. "Nothing beyond what she let others see. I understand that now; I understand why when I didn't back then. I tried to tell Kate, but I'm not sure she gets it."

Martha squeezed his hand, following his eyes as he returned to staring out the window. "You know, when I met your father, I thought he was the most handsome, mysterious man I'd ever met. He told me he was an Ad exec. I had no reason not to believe him."

Rick looked at his mother, lost in her memories. She'd so rarely talked about his father that it was ironic that she'd bring him up now. "How long did you know each other, really?"

She waved a hand. "Just that one incredible night, believe it or not. He sent me a dozen roses after a performance of mine, praising me to the skies. It was nice, but I knew it wouldn't last. I figured he was married, and I wasn't ready to settle down, not back then."

"Funny," he said, cracking a smile as he met her gaze.

"Yes, well," she said, smiling softly, "by the time I realized what had happened, he was long gone." She looked away again. "When you said that there wasn't anything behind the mask Sophia wore, it reminded me of your father. There was always something…missing. Like a play without a final act. I know it sounds strange…"

"No," he said. "It doesn't sound strange at all. He paused then, wondering if he should mention Sophia's last words to him. It was likely she was just telling more lies. And his mother had said she didn't really know his father very well. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but he had to wonder who the man really was. Finally, he spoke up. "Mother, Sophia said that it was my father who'd gotten me access to the CIA all those years ago. Do you think she meant…"

"That he was somehow involved with the CIA?" Martha asked, raising an eyebrow. She shook her head. "I don't know. I suppose it's possible. I have no idea whether the name he gave me was even his, so I couldn't even track him down if I'd wanted to."

"I know, mother," he said, smiling as he squeezed her hand once more. "It's just—I wonder, is all. I wonder if I'm like him at all."

"Well, you're a hell of a lot more responsible than I ever was at your age, kiddo," she said, tugging on his hand. "And you do love a good mystery. That you didn't get from me."

He fell silent then, sipping at his drink as he thought back on his time with Sophia, and his time with Kate. He wondered if she was going to end their partnership, in light of what she now knew about him. He hoped not, but he'd never been good at predicting how Kate would react to anything, least of all where he was concerned.

"We all tell lies," he said instead. "We don't want people to know who we really are, so we wear masks that hide us from each other, from ourselves. I just never thought that someone I knew would be so totally false—I mean, Sophia didn't really exist. It makes me wonder who else I know that isn't who they say they are."

"None of that now, Richard," his mother admonished him. "No need to get paranoid."

"Okay, okay," he said, chuckling.

"And as for Kate, you've stuck with her through thick and thin," she said. "Any other man would have run long before now, and she knows it."

Rick smiled, squeezing her hand. "Thanks, Mother."

"Anytime," she said. She pulled back, finishing off her drink. "Are you going to be alright?"

He took a deep breath, then let it out. "Yeah. I think so. It's just been a hell of a week."

"It should give you plenty of material for your next book, though," she said as she rose, taking her glass to rinse in the sink.

Rick shook his head as he joined her. "I don't think the CIA wants me to write about this. Besides, there are some things that are too personal to put on paper."

Martha shrugged. "Suit yourself. Just don't stay up all night thinking about it."

"Yes, mother," he said, smiling good-naturedly. He leaned in, kissing her forehead. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," she said, patting his arm.

She turned and made her way upstairs, Rick following her with his eyes. When she'd finally disappeared, he turned back to the windows, leaning his hip against the counter as he crossed his arms. He wasn't sure he'd really settled anything by talking to his mother, but it had been nice to share it with someone. He knew the answers wouldn't come right away, mostly because he wasn't sure he even knew the right questions.

His father had been the enduring mystery of his life, and he knew he could pursue it if he really wanted to. He just didn't know if that would be wise. Kate had been trying to unravel the mystery of her mother's death for years, and it had almost gotten her killed. He wasn't sure that knowing who his father really was would be worth that.

There was one thing he did know: he wasn't going to give up on Kate, no matter what. She might think the worse of him after their time with Sophia, but he really couldn't prove that he was genuinely in love with her in any other way than to stick by her and not demand anything more of her than what she was willing to give.

He knew Kate had depths that he hadn't begun to understand, and that thought alone made it all worthwhile. There was so much more to her than there ever had been to Sophia, and he knew it would probably take him the rest of his life to figure her out, but he wasn't in a hurry. And someday she'd know that he wasn't just in love with his Muse; he was in love with her. He just had to be patient while she sorted out the truth from the lies.

He could do that. He loved her enough to do that for her.

~Finis


End file.
